Poetry

it isn’t cold enough to think of you yet. not enough chill to wipe away the innocent blush from my cheeks as memory and guilt combine, taking the shape of your eyes. maybe i’m romanticizing again. maybe it’s my medication losing its hold as your face becomes brighter in the very back screen of my skull. innocent red. the color of my cheeks and the color of your fingertips when…

i realized last night that i loved you the most. i kept my glasses off in the dark to let the world fade out and let that april snow fade in. to feel every letter i wrote you for two years return to my fingertips and glide me back to these keys. it’s the heartbreak of an 18 year old heart felt in the chest of 26 year old regret…

she wants her fingertips to numb underneath the icewater, then she can ease it down her neck, letting the water drip across her skin like she hopes his breath will trace her spine. suddenly he returned like the first fall breeze melted into summer heat. Their shadows pressed together as he held her back to his chest, teasing and cupping her hungry flesh. the tree roots had deepened—spread and learned…

So with a sigh and a soft nudge the Mariana trench, spreading wide, wild, and empty from collarbone to wide breathing ribs was stitched together. Breathing became solid and full with each lilt of his lips against her skin. He turned, faced her straight, pulled her from the squall. The Siren of Mariana shall sink no more ships to fill her Pacific heart. Her tears floating her instead toward heat.…

The sun had the audacity to warm my skin the next day. It rose even though I was unable to, burrowed under blankets listening to the hollow scratching between my legs that was reawakened by fear. I was a victim who was once again reprimanded for being a victim. I was a woman too afraid to walk the streets. I was a heart too terrified by what i knew my…

You had a penchant for breaking plates when things got tough, you said. Now remember staring across at me, through the hope of candlelight, cradling promises across to me on your lips. You look like porcelain. milky skin; soft. white. clean. Now remember laying in my bed, never quite believing I was real, you said. Your tongue marbleized, crystallizing around mine, melding me to you in the most beautifully cruel…

I bit my lips wide open; ruined them. I know what it was to leave you in your bed. To feel you against my skin for the last time as I sat against your sink and smelled you in my hair. (No, No, No) Empty rose petals were swallowed by screwdrivers made of bone. I sucked and sucked for more flavor from the petals, tucked the single flower up against…

The lawn gnomes had all lost their hats and the one that was my favorite, the one that held a flower, had walked away from our lawn after he pulled me into him on my doorstep after our first date. I pictured the gnome’s little face twisted into contempt as he started at this man who had held my door for me all night and smiled at me as I…

It was with eloquent larceny that he gained my eloquent heart. He snuck inside with pernicious claws, easily removing my brain and beating organs, replacing it with liquid nitrogen and venom. That first kiss felt like riding through a carwash, locked inside a phantasmagoric dishwasher of colors. But all of my paint chipped clean away, leading to a final kiss of lead and decay. via *…

Healthy raspberry scented flames burned through the cathedral of his heart. They whipped out and reverberated down his spinal chord where she had touched him. Her worshipping fingers were brought to justice one by one. With each tentative tip toe of her fingertips down his spine, the flames grew hotter. Wilder. Eager to eat her hands. She had selected this fate, willing to let her fingerprints dissolve for the chance…